North Park
by dad-are-you-space
Summary: As a note, as far as I know this isn't already an episode, and if it is, I sure don't know about it. But anyway, be prepared for a clusterf**k beyond your wildest nightmares... This is a serial, probably taking place in season 3. (All characters (c) Comedy Central/ Trey and Matt)
1. Chapter 1

Stan awoke with a start, gasping as he awoke from a crazy nightmare. He'd been in the eye of a tornado as everyone he knew seemed to be being whisked away in a hurricane. All his schoolfriends, their moms and dads, all kinds of people he knew from around town- all being pulled up and tossed far beyond his reach or even his sight, probably to their deaths.

Recognising he'd only been imagining things, he sat up, breathed a sigh of relief, and then walked over to his dresser. In a sleepy daze, he sifted through his clothes, trying to find his familiar woolly blue hat, red gloves and blue jeans.

Slowly, he realized none of them were there. "Crap," he murmured. "I guess they're in the dryer." He hated wearing other stuff; most of it was either too cold or just didn't look or feel right. After a while of searching, he reluctantly settled on a green hat with ear flaps, green gloves and dark green jeans.

Then something clicked. "This... this is Kyle's shit!" he squeaked, confused and rather worried. What the hell was going on here? He shuffled over to the window... and saw a town which was not quite like he remembered. Hardly any snow on the paths, a few fluffy cloud-like specs flitting about in a field off of the farm, the back of a dented metal sign which he knew displayed the town name in large letters- but usually made of wood.

Feeling as if he was going mad, he put his fingers together to pinch one arm, hoping he'd feel no pain and wake up from his dream.

Ow. God damnit, that hurt more than he was expecting. In an instant, he exploded. "WHAT THE FUCK'S GOING ON HERE?!"

"What what WHAT?!" an unpleasant, but familiar, voice shouted from the hall. To his amazement, Kyle's mom opened the door grumpily. Unintentionally, Stan gasped. She was dressed in his own mom's brown top, and was a lot thinner than usual, but there was no doubt it was Mrs Broslovski, beehive and nasty temperament and all.

"Sorry, Mrs Broslovski-" Stan started.

"Young man, you watch your mouth!" she replied, cutting him off. "And it's MOM, thank you very much!" As the door slammed shut, Stan shrugged and began to pull on the unfamiliar clothes.

As he left his room, a bizarre voice from behind him growled, "Hey, turrrrrd!" The voice was just weird. It sounded kinda like... Terrance and Phillip?!

As he turned to face whoever it was, a young man much taller than him and presumably considerably older stared him down. Stan gulped, realizing why this guy was familiar. "Ike?" he responded, confused beyond comprehension.

"Ootta my way," the angry young Canadian scowled, pushing Stan back against his doorframe and heading downstairs. Normally he would've found the Canadian 'oot' a little funny, but he was too shell-shocked to even notice it.

Slipping out of the house without even grabbing breakfast, Stan trudged along the path until he came to the metal sign. Reading it just made him even more astonished, so much so he rubbed his eyes, looked away and back again, even kicked it. But all of it didn't change what the sign said.

'North Park'.


	2. Chapter 2

"This is wrong. This is all fucking wrong. This can't be happening," Stan murmured to himself as he nervously walked down the path to the bus stop. When he got there, even _that_ was wrong.

The sign they usually stood by was accompanied by a glass shelter, only the slight residue of graffiti implying it could possibly be from this town. And the people inside were familiar, but yet intensely threatening.

To the left, a boy dressed how Stan normally did, wearing a woolly blue hat, brown coat and red gloves, but who looked painfully thin, with blonde hair poking out around his ears.

Next to him, almost his opposite, a huge boy in an orange parka that could probably be mistaken for a kind of bastardised igloo, only two eyes visible from the middle of the hood, mumbling away in what, from the reaction of the others, were almost definitely expletives.

And to the right, a boy in a red coat with a light blue hat and yellow gloves, frowning and trying to get a little girl haranguing him to go away. When a tiny dazzle of light from her teeth sent the sun reeling into Stan's eyes, he realized this must be Shelley. Even as a baby, she could still hurt him somehow, even if it was with braces and not fists now.

"Hey, dude," the one to the right said listlessly as Stan drew near. "What's up?"

Shell-shocked, Stan sat down next to him and looked over at the strange sights around him. "Um... Kyle?" he slowly piped up, guessing at who was who.

"Yeah?"

"Is it just me or does everything seem kinda..."

"Mmm mm?" the large boy in the middle- Cartman, Stan supposed- put in.

Stan paused, then finished, "Yeah, that."

None of them said anything, but Stan couldn't help but look bewildered at the little girl. No sooner than she noticed him, she scurried away like a fly from a swatter.

"I think it's just you, man," the blonde boy on the end replied at last, shrugging.

As the bus rolled up and the boys climbed on board, another weird thing reared its ugly head. And for once, said ugly head was not accompanied by a second head in its hand. "Good morning, children," chirped the man at the wheel of the bus.

The other three stepped further onto the bus, but Stan remained still for a minute. "Mr... Garrison?" he asked uncertainly.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP BACK THERE!" the driver cried out, drawing a gun and a rabbit from the glove box. _Well, at least_ _ **something's**_ _normal,_ Stan thought to himself as he took a seat.

Looking from the window, every detail in town was off, from passing 'Stotch Bros. Coffee' shop to the Conjoined Twin Myslexic mayor in the window of the town hall (although that could make a little sense in certain circumstances...).

Suddenly, he felt a little tap on his shoulder from behind. A boy with night-black hair and a vicious scowl set into his face. As Stan turned around, he couldn't help but jump.

And then, as the boy spoke, the penny dropped. "Pardon me, Stanley, but I notice you seem a mite uncomfortable. Are you quite alright?"

Stan's eyes almost popped out of his head for about the millionth time that day. Hesitating, not sure what the right name was in the situation, he eventually answered, "...Fuck off, Pip."

"Suit yourself," Pip responded, turning around. As he came to his senses, Stan realized that boy had been wearing the same ridiculous outfit Pip always did. Maybe in this place, clothes really did maketh the man...?

 _Nah, that's just stupid,_ he thought to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

For once, Stan was actually on edge going into school. Every detail was just so jarringly wrong, and all his classmates seemed lost to him, barely able to tell who was who with so many things different.

Even when he got into the classroom and took his seat, he couldn't catch a break. As soon as he tried to get his bearings, a jittering blonde boy hovered over him. His heart raced- could there be SOMEONE normal left in this weird world?

His hope was shattered as he looked up; it wasn't Tweek next to him, but Butters. "Tha-that's my seat!" he squeaked.

Stan cracked, exploding in Butters' face. "THIS IS MY GOD DAMN SEAT, BUTTERS! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"

"AAAAHHHH!" Butters yelped. "C'mon, please! We'll get in trouble!" Although he thought he was beyond caring, Stan moved, feeling like he was going just as crazy as Butters was now.

Cartman sniggered from inside his parka as Stan sat down, fuming. The next event hardly improved the mood in the room. "Morning, children! I hope you all did yesterday's assignment?" their teacher asked sinisterly on entering the room.

Everyone gasped, but Stan did for a very different reason. "Mayor McDaniels?!" he exclaimed. The mayor, inexplicably wearing a ridiculous green shirt with a dead-eyed puppet in one hand, looked bemused at him.

"Wow, I'm going up in the world, hey, Stanley?" she laughed, setting off a chorus of mockery in his direction. Mournfully, he slammed his head on the desk in front of him and groaned. "Speaking of projects, yours was to do a news report on something happening in North Park. What's your story?"

Stan blanked. Guessing based on what he knew from this universe, he blurted out, "Kyle's dog ate it."

Suddenly acting a little like normal, Kyle covered for him. "Um... yeah, when I was sleeping he found it on the floor and shat on it."

Mrs McDaniels frowned, and then started doing the stupid ventriloquist thing with her puppet. "Well, you should lock your fucking dog out of the room next time, huh?" she said out of one side of her mouth. "That's right, Mr Hat, dogs are hungry bastards."

Suddenly, the door flew open, with a screeching voice echoing through the hall into the room and shattering everyone's eardrums. "MRS MCDANIELS, WE GOT SOME HUGE ASS NEWS TO TELL ALL THE LOVELY CHILDREN ABOUT!" Mrs Crabtree bellowed from the other side of the door. "WE'RE WHEELING IN THE TV!"

"The TV?" Mrs McDaniels gulped. "It's that big? We need _the TV_?"

"WHAT DO YOU WANNA DO ABOUT IT, READ FROM THE FUCKING PAPER?"

"...Just come and set it up." Sure enough, Mrs Crabtree came through the door and plugged it in. As the TV burst into life, it conveniently started with the announcement that the programme had been interrupted for a message from the President of the United States.

Apparently, anyway. When it came on, although he knew nothing about politics and everyone else treated the guy as if he was, Stan knew for a fact this was not the President. Which, thanks to the fallacies of politics, means he was spot on.

The man behind the desk actually looked rather scary. His eyes probably had something to do with that, since they seemed hostile and unblinking, as if they were staring into the souls of everybody in the room. His hair seemed incapable of touching anywhere on his face or forehead, instead tapering off just away from it at every angle. He seemed to have his lips locked in a disturbing smile, and his voice didn't even sound American.

Just to top it off, the response of everyone made it clear to Stan that something big was apparently happening. But what drove him over the edge was the clincher in his realization this guy was not someone he recognised in the slightest was the name, "Tony Blair".

Stan started to hyperventilate and yell in bewilderment. "OK, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" he screamed. "WHY IS EVERYTHING ALL WRONG? WHY IS NOBODY NORMAL? CAN SOMEONE TELL ME **WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH EVERYBODY TODAY?!"**

As he collapsed on the floor, Kyle unhelpfully asked, "Dude, are you alright?"

Mrs McDaniels came over and whispered, "Kyle, would you mind taking him to the councilor?" Kyle nodded, and showed Stan out of the room.

"I... I think I'm going nuts..." Stan murmured to him. "Something is... so, so wrong..."

"If you mean the President, that's everyone's reaction when he comes on TV, man," Kyle replied.

As they entered the councilor's office, two words they both really needed to hear came from behind the desk.

"Hello, children."


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, Councillor," Kyle chirped.

"Hey, Chef," Stan said at the same time.

"Wait... what did you say?" both of them asked in unison. "Why are we talking at exactly the same time?"

Predictably, Stan started cracking up again. "Listen, Chef... Councillor... I don't fucking know, guy with a sweet beard! Something is very wrong here!"

"Weird?" Councillor moved out from behind the desk, clad in the same green shirt as Mrs McDaniels from earlier. "Well, tell me all about it. After all, I am a professional psychologist..."

"NO!" Stan yelled deleriously. "You're not! You're a chef who can hardly cook and is obsessed with singing about making sweet love and never really gets to do any!"

Both Kyle and Councillor looked perplexed at him. "You saying Councillor's a fraud?" Kyle frowned.

"Yeah, who told y- I mean, why'd you think I'm not a professional?" Councillor added. "And besides, I'm celibate."

Stan blinked. "Don't we all celibate sometimes?"

"God damn it, children! It means I never have sex!"

At this, Stan just cracked. He dropped to his knees and let out a blood-curdling, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Looking bewildered at each other, Kyle and Councillor shrugged.

As the confused and desperate boy in front of them broke down in tears, Kyle turned to Councillor and asked quietly, "Dude, _are_ you a professional?"

On the playground, Stan couldn't even find the will to mess around with the others, instead sitting under a tree watching them.

His mind was just so distracted. Seeing a mumbling Cartman running around instructing them in a squeak that sounded like a castrated hamster didn't even raise a smile from him.

Suddenly, as if he needed another example of how screwed up this world was, a blonde girl came up in a very familiar outfit. As he looked up, trying to prepare himself for the inevitable, he just tried to imagine he might not be wrong.

He looked from the ground up to the top of her head- past the black shoes, the yellow leggings and skirt, the frilly pink coat, forcing his vision to blur as he looked to the pink beret. He could almost hear sappy music ringing in his ears.

"Stan?" an unfamiliar voice squeaked- not Wendy's, but Bebe's. Shit. As he focused, he noticed her distinctive curly blonde hair.

"H-hey Bebe," he mumbled, trying to be polite and hide his sheer disappointment.

As he blankly stared at the ground, trying to work out what was happening, she suddenly said, "Something's up."

His heart missed a beat. What the hell? Out of all the people who might understand something was really fucked up about the town today, it was somehow Bebe? Seemed kinda... random...

"Really?" His face was probably too eager, although not for the reason he'd think. "What's wrong?"

When she spoke, he realized that hope really had been too good to be true. "You haven't barfed."

"Wait, what?" He looked bewilderedly at her. He only barfed around people he was really attracted to, as far as he could tell. Bebe was cute, no word of a lie, but in his eyes there was just something about Wendy. Like his dad sometimes said there was 'something about Mary', presumably.

"Are you... over that?" she asked, apparently tense about the answer.

He shrugged, not sure if she was going to be excited or bummed. "I guess so, yeah."

She broke into a huge grin, and before he could even react she'd grabbed his hands, pushed him against the tree and started kissing him.

After a couple of seconds, she pulled away and grinned. What the hell had she done that for? "Oh my God, Stan, you're awesome!"

Perplexed, but a little dazed, Stan replied, "Um... thanks..." If he ever got this back to normal, there was now absolutely no doubt anyone would ever get to hear about it.

As she moved away, Bebe suddenly added, "Oh, I think I dropped my glove down there. Could you get it, hun?"

Stan shuddered. It sounded so weird to hear anyone, let alone a girl who'd never shown any sign of being attracted to him in his own universe, call him that. Not wanting to start a fight, he just replied, "Sure."

As he rolled over to get it from between the roots, he remembered what Bebe had always found endearing about Kyle. As he handed it back to her, he noticed she was blushing. Was she... staring at his ass just then?

"Thanks," she beamed, skipping away in a weird fashion. Stan looked over his shoulder; was his ass different in this reality, or did Kyle's mom- no, wait, _his_ mom- just buy pants that showcase it?

As he walked away pondering all that, Kenny looked at him from afar, narrowing his eyes. "Lucky bastard," he murmured.


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as he got home, Stan collapsed onto the sofa, trying to take in the bizarre world around him. His hand grasped for the remote control, shifting through the channels to see what else had changed.

He didn't recognise a single show. 'Ugly Bob and Saddam' was kinda funny, although it made him even more uncomfortable. 'Dickheadmon' was some weird fad show, kinda like Chinpokomon but with technobabble thrown into the mix.

For a split second, he flipped over to the news- and wished he hadn't. The bulletin shifted through things he really didn't want to see- the discovery of the body of a part-cannibalized Eric Roberts in North Park, some horror story involving Barbara Streisland (which could be anything, of course)...

But then came something even more terrifying. The story started to cover something in the White House- not the President, although Stan thought that deserved investigation too- but then froze on his face.

And the TV started to talk. In President Blair's voice.

"Sssssstan..." it hissed. "I know you're watching this. Only you can hear what I'm saying."

Stan's whole body went rigid. What the fuck was going on?! How could that guy- he wasn't the President, but WHOEVER he was- do this?

"If you don't want me to send oot nuclear missiles to blow up this town, you'd better pull down your pants and fart _Hail To The Chief_."

Wait a second... farting? 'Oot?' He turned around to see a laughing Ike.

"YOU ASSHOLE!" Stan screamed as his brother- no, KYLE'S brother, this wasn't his world!- ran off upstairs laughing to himself.

Slowly, he shuffled over to the phone and dialled his home phone, guessing that must be how to get in touch with Kyle. "Um... hey, dude?" he asked uncertainly as someone picked up the line.

"What's up, man?" Kyle answered indifferently.

"Well, I've kinda got to talk to you about something," Stan replied, mumbling as he tried to work out the right words for the outlandish situation at hand. "Can we meet up in my- wait, sorry- your clubhouse?"

"What, are you and Bebe gonna try something out again?" Kyle scoffed. "You guys are just weird. Next you're gonna tell me you're gonna bring Wendy along or something!"

"Fuck you, man!" Stan laughed. "But yeah, I'll be bringing Bebe." Given that Wendy in his world was all political, it made sense to assume Bebe in this world must be too.

"Fine," Kyle sighed. "But if you wanna do Truth or Dare, get a God damn room!"

Impatiently, Stan hung up. He didn't have time for anything like that. Nonetheless, maybe it _was_ a good idea to see if he could get Bebe's help with this.

Uncertainly dialling Wendy's number, he picked it up, said hello shyly, and was answered by an ecstatic Bebe.

"Hey, Stan!" she squeaked. "What's up?"

"Well, I've... kinda got something to tell you about. It's... I guess political?" he mumbled.

There was a pause. " _You're_ interested in something political?" Bebe replied uncertainly.

"Yeah. It's hard to explain. Can you meet me in Kyle's clubhouse and I'll tell you about it?"

"Definitely!" Bebe answered, very excitedly and quickly. "Don't worry, I'll be there!"

He headed off to his room and started packing an Ugly Bob and Saddam bag, wondering to himself how the hell that show ever took off.

At the stroke of midnight, he snuck out of the house and slipped round to Kyle's- his?- house, and climbed into the clubhouse.

Bebe was already there. "So, what's so political?" she asked.

"I should probably wait until Kyle gets here," Stan replied.

An evil expression crossed Bebe's face. "Well, I got an idea what we can do 'till he does..."

Stan's eyes widened in shock. "Hey, wait-" he started, but before he knew it, she was crushing him into a hug. "I'm... I'm not a fucking teddy!" he wheezed, cursing his somehow still present asthma flaring up from the dusty wood of the clubhouse.

His eyes only widened further as Kyle's head poked up from the ladder through the doorway. A little startled, Bebe loosened her grip.

"Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here," Stan and Kyle exclaimed in unison.


	6. Chapter 6

As Bebe let him go, frowning, Stan pulled a big reel of paper from his backpack. "OK, can I go over the plan now?"

"No, wait a second!" Kyle insisted. Looking behind him, he gestured for someone to come forward.

"What are you doing?" Stan asked confusedly.

Turning back to face him, Kyle explained, "Well, I figured we could use some backup."

"Backup?" Stan frowned, raising one eyebrow.

"Too late to say no now, man," Kyle replied insistently. "C'mon guys, get up here!" Three figures climbed up to the clubhouse. The first to struggle up was Cartman, inexplicably wearing both a parka and a bandit mask with a ninja sword strapped to his back. "MMM MMM-MMM!" he mumbled.

"The muscle? Sure, just keep telling yourself that, fatass," Kyle snickered. Cartman mumbled some more expletives as he moved over next to Bebe.

Following behind him was Tweek, wearing a stupid suit and carrying an encyclopedia. "I-I'm the brains, that's what Kyle said I could do, so I figured I'd get a big book and a suit, 'cause smart people read a lot of books, and I kinda like suits," he waffled in a way that made it clear to Stan that he was pretty much Butters. And a pain in the ass.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get over there," Kyle responded, pointing over to where the others were sitting.

Last to enter the clubhouse was Dougie- or at least, what Dougie would look like at their age- who flipped Kyle the double bird as he came to sit down, before slowly starting a cycle of doing it to everyone there one at a time.

Stan came up to stand in front of them, unfolded his reel of paper and stuck up the first sheet. Clearing his throat, he started, "OK. Has anyone here noticed weird things going on?"

Everyone shrugged and looked at him unconvinced. "Like the way everyone's personalities have shifted? Like how everyone's jobs are different? _Like how the President is fucking terrifying?"_ he exclaimed, pointing to the photo of President Blair (that still felt so wrong to say) he'd ripped out of the paper.

"Dude, the President is always fucking terrifying," Kyle replied indifferently.

Stan paused. "That's not the point. The point is, something is wrong, and I'm the only one who knows it!"

"OK, fine. If you're so sure, prove you're not crazy!" Bebe insisted. That gave Stan the perfect idea what he could do to show the situation for what it was.

Slowly he asked, "Um, Bebe... can you come up here?" She did, and as soon as she came up he kissed her insistently for a few seconds before pulling away.

Kyle facepalmed. "I fucking KNEW it! Look, Stan, good for you having a fucking girlfriend, but some of us don't give a crap about-"

"That's not the point," Stan replied firmly. Turning back to Bebe, he elaborated, "You know me. If I was normal, I wouldn't be able to do that. I'd puke up on the floor, because I always do that when I'm around someone I have a crush on."

Putting the pieces together, Bebe looked crushed. "I'm sorry," he added forlornly. Turning back angrily to Kyle, he frowned, "NOW do you believe me, God damn it?"

Speechless, Kyle nodded. Feeling rather sorry for Bebe but unsure if he could do anything helpful, Stan gave her a little platonic hug before she sat back down. "So, back to the point: we need to find someone who might know what the hell is happening before something bad happens."

Tweek put his hand up and seemed to jiggle about in a way more akin to who Stan knew him as normally than who he was in this reality. "Tweek?"

"Uh, well, I have an idea," he bumbled. "We could go up the hill, you know, the one south of town, and find the weird guy who lives there- you know, the big scientist guy who they say is weird?"

Stan was impressed that he'd come up with something pretty clever for once. "Good thinking, man! What we've gotta do is find the guy up the hill and get some answers!"

There was one wrench in this plan. Stan assumed that who Tweek was talking about was Mephesto, who would've been very useful for the situation they were in. Unfortunately, this universe was not exactly going to leave the most useful aspect of the plan intact.

Who they were going to was to prove very unusual, and unhelpfully familiar.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for taking so long with this chapter, I've been on holiday without Internet for the last week or so.**


	7. Chapter 7

After a surprisingly quick, but nevertheless arduous, trip up the hill, the group reached the laboratory at its top. Their supplies were low- although Cartman was pretty instrumental in that- but casualties were mercifully none.

As Kyle knocked on the door to try and be let in, Stan muttered to himself, "Knowing this universe, this is probably Doctor Frankenstein's God damn lab."

The answer at the door was probably not much less surprising. Opening the door was a man in a bright Hawaiian shirt, carrying a cane and wearing a sandy-brown fedora.

This would have been all well and good, except for one small detail.

"Jesus Christ!" Butters exclaimed as the group recognised who was standing in front of them.

"Yes, my children?" Jesus replied serenely.

"Um... Jesus?" Stan started. "Can we talk to you about something?"

Jesus nodded and let them in. The laboratory he lived in was almost Gothic, a castle-like place with horrific looking experiments abound, from a disfigured giant monster that looked not unlike Stan as he was dressed now, to an empty room decorated with posters promoting U2 and President Blair's election campaign.

Something about this place just gave Stan the chills, although he was relieved to see Tweek shaking too- something he normally never thought he'd say, but in this universe, was a genuine reassurance.

"So, child, tell me- why have you come to my house?" Jesus asked Kyle. Looking confused, Kyle nudged Stan to get him to explain.

Suddenly, something clicked in Stan's mind- Jesus was confused too! "Um... Jesus, have you noticed something is really strange around here recently?"

A worried expression coming to the Son of God's face, Jesus said, "Yes, my son. I can tell nobody else but you and I know it, but I know what you mean."

Ecstatic for the first time since this nightmare had begun, Stan babbled, "So I'm right? All this is weird? Chef being a councillor? Tweek not stuck vibrating like a fucking cellphone? President swivel-eyes? All of that's weird, and I'm not just going nuts?"

Hiding the fear in his mind, although the dramatic music that seemed to haunt the house was making that fact redundant, Jesus continued, "Absolutely. I feel a great disturbance in this town- as if hundreds of voices cried out in pain and fear and were suddenly silenced."

Frowning, Kyle interrupted, "Dude, can you stop quoting Star Wars and give us some help?"

"I'm afraid not, child," Jesus replied solemnly. "I tell you solemnly, it is too late."

"Wait, what?" Stan exclaimed. "What the hell makes you say that?"

A desperate expression finally crossing Christ's face, he replied, "Look in the window."

Panicking, Kyle ran to the window and could barely believe what he saw. "Holy shit, man!" he cried. "There's fucking tanks out there!"

Perking up in a way almost possessed by 'his' body, Butters babbled, "W-why would there be tanks out there? What would a tank be needed for if Jesus is in this place and we're coming to get help from him and he might stop them- wait, maybe Jesus is in this place and we're coming to get help from him and- AAAH!"

At first, Stan thought the boy was cracking up. But then he realized- Butters's shoulders were beginning to shake. His eyes were twitching and blinking alarmingly. He walked up to the boy and shouted, "Tweek? Tweek, is that you?"

"AAH! Too much pressure!" the boy squealed, standing there jittering away in a panic.

Stan's face lit up. "Guys, look! He's turning back to normal! Butters is Tweek again!" Turning to Jesus, he asked uncertainly, "What's happening?"

"This reality is collapsing," Jesus explained. "It feeds off of people's complacency. As long as they don't remember what they are supposed to be and just pretend this universe is as it is meant to be, it will be sustained."

Suddenly, Stan realized he wasn't talking to Jesus- he was talking to Mephesto. "WOOHOO!" he cried out. "Hey, guys! Listen to me!"

"It's too late," a voice growled. As Stan turned around, President Blair was standing behind him, staring at him with one harsh eye. "Mmhm, mmm mmm-mmm! Mmm mmm mm, m'm mm-mm mmmm!" Cartman cried out from inside his parka and tried to scuttle away. Before he could leave the house, though, a tank burst through the wall and squashed him.

"Oh my God! They killed Cartman!" Kyle exclaimed in shock.

Stan turned frustratedly to him and growled, "Hey, that's my line!"

"You bastards!" they yelled in unison.


	8. Chapter 8- FINALE

Indifferent to what had just happened, President Blair frowned angrily. "I'm afraid whatever you're doing, it has to stop."

Suddenly getting a brainwave, Kyle cut in, "But, Mr President, we were just gonna do a re-enactment of your campaign song in here!"

Stan looked confusedly at him. "Dude, the President doesn't-"

"SHUT UP!" Kyle hissed at him. "Mephesto, can you turn on the music in that room over there?"

On cue, Mephesto did just that, and the entire hillside was bathed in painfully loud bursts of a lame D:ream song from six years ago. "TEACH ME NOW THAT FI-I-I-INGZ... KIN ONLY GET BETTA... THEY KIN ONLY GET..."

Like something out of a Michael Jackson music video, the President sauntered into the empty room full of his election posters crooning, "THEY KIN ONLY GET... THEY GET OFF WITH ME, YA KNOW, AH KNOW, THAT FIIINGZ KIN ONLY GET BETTA!"

Seizing the opportunity, Mephesto locked him in the airtight room, muffling the noise. "OK, can someone explain to me what the hell is going on?" Stan finally asked.

Mephesto looked at the floor ashamedly. "I'm afraid this is all my fault," he explained. "You see, I've always stayed here partly as a way of harnessing the stupidity and ignorance of this redneck mountain town. I wanted to use this laboratory as a way of feeding off of it- extracting the genetic energy of people's cells to power it.

"I thought the time was right to utilise it, which would allow me to mix it with radioactive material to create cold fusion. It would power this town for centuries to come- or so I thought. Instead, it seems it just mutated everyone and mixed up their genetics.

"Everyone, it seems, except you, Stanley, since your clone and you shared DNA and I used the clone's," he finished, pointing to the mutation from Stan's DNA sitting in one corner of the room.

Stan nodded. "Yeah, great, man, but that's not what I was asking about. What I wanted to know is WHY THE FUCK DOES THE PRESIDENT HAVE A THEME SONG?!"

"You never knew? It was on TV all the time a couple of years ago!" Kyle replied.

Looking over at the terrifying D:ream tribute in the corner of the room, Stan asked, "Come to think of it, why IS the President this guy?"

"He's an overspill," Mephesto said. "When the effects reached Jesus's house, it seems it affected the entire world. But fortunately, I think I have an idea how we can set everything right."

Stan gulped. "You don't mean-"

"I'm afraid so. You'll have to shit into the eye of the storm."

There was a brief pause, during which time everyone else's eyes widened. "Wait, WHAT?" Stan looked puzzled.

"I'm serious," Mephesto frowned. "If we can extract the remnants of DNA from a turd you send into the core of this building, it will mean there are two sets of your genetic material in there. The data will overwrite the current set of information, and modify the world accordingly."

"You're sure about this, dude?" Kyle asked, looking concernedly at him.

He shrugged the boy's concerns off. "I'll do it," he said, walking towards a pipe Mephesto had unplugged from the wall. Quickly, he dropped his pants, sat on the pipe as the others crowded round to hold it steady, and tried as hard as he could to drop one off.

"Come on! You can do this, Stan!" Bebe chirped encouragingly.

"Yeah, dude, crap for the world! If the President in a box over there can do it, you can!" Kyle teased.

That was enough to get him to finish. With a hideous rumbling, his turd dropped down the tube, and a series of grinding noises rocked the building. Finally, there was an explosion of whiteness, and he passed out.

When he awoke, he found himself in bed. For a minute, he didn't want to get up. Then he noticed the Terrance and Phillip alarm clock next to him. The dusty Chinpokomon leering at him from the door of his closet. The snow on the ground outside. Could it be...?

"WOOOHOOO!" he yelled, getting up, pulling on his familiar brown jacket, blue jeans and blue bobble hat, and racing out the door off to the bus stop.

Waiting there were three figures he'd never been happier to see. One of them was a huge, rather ugly boy in a red coat not unlike a tent; next to him, a boy wearing a green woolly hat with ear flaps and an orange coat; the third, a boy almost engulfed by his orange parka.

This was his world, as it should be. "Hey, guys!" he grinned.

"You're pretty happy this morning, dude," Kyle smiled incredulously.

"What's so great, you wet the bed thinking about your guuurl-friend?" Cartman taunted.

"Nah, I've just kinda got a feeling it's gonna be a good day," Stan replied, indifferent to the insult. At least he could be pretty sure Wendy wasn't going to try staring awkwardly at his ass. Turning to Kenny, he said quietly, "You won't BELIEVE what I did last night, man."

"Mm mmm mr mm mmrmmr?" Kenny mumbled back curiously.

Stan couldn't hold back a little laughter as he began to explain, "Well, it was pretty much some fucked-up shit."

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for reading and sticking with this story, guys! Hopefully you liked it- I know I'm not a patch on the writing of the real show, but if you have any constructive criticism, feedback or just a little message, I'd really appreciate it! ^_^**


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